


none more than you is immortality

by Byacolate



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Episode 4, F/M, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon Fix-It, Resurrection, murderers in love, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It‘s a sexy hat his sexy girlfriend used to wear sexily, because it is and she did. That‘s all there is to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	none more than you is immortality

Jack can‘t remember the last time anyone‘s survived his trapdoor. He can’t remember his own death, though, so it’s not the most surprising slip of the mind since this little adventure began.

 

He likes Rhys well enough. Sort of. In his own way. His head’s all quaint and cozy, and despite all the rattling around and minor concussions, some interesting shit lies buried underneath. He has potential, and Jack’s an old hat at mining potential. Bit of a rogue element - a little too fond of changes of heart, a little too guided by his moral compass and his dick - and Jack’s not a gambling man. For the moment, though, he has no choice. So he watches the kid poke around his inner sanctum and gears himself up to pick him apart. He’s gotta play this right.

 

Optimistically, Jack figures that the last time he needed someone else to prop him up to the top worked well enough. He’s known rogue elements before. Put his life in their hands. Took them into the core of his institution, his livelihood, his self-fulfilling prophecy, and all that happened was…

 

Rhys needs a tour of his material accomplishments. Jack all but jumps to oblige him.

 

* * *

 

 

_“You‘ve got some nerve,” Jack grumbles around the pen in his teeth. The look he gives from under the irate slope of his brow normally has lesser beings shitting themselves._

_“Yeah,” she agrees on the other side of his desk, a fist on her hip. “I know. You love it.”_

_“Barging in here unannounced,” he goes on, yanking the pen out and tossing onto his desk, “with the card key you pick-pocketed from me like a back-alley street urchin, with your sexy goddamn hat, and your - your legs, and your face. Didn‘t even knock. That‘s just basic etiquette, Nisha.”_

_“Sounds like a personal problem to me.” She plants her palms on his desk and leans over with a slow smile. “What do I need basic etiquette for if all it takes to steal my boyfriend‘s keys is battin' my eyes when I cop a feel?”_

_“Okay, listen, your eyes aren‘t that great, they‘re average at best and I‘m just lying now. That was a lie. Your eyes are stunning.”_

_Her smug little grin lasts all of five minutes until she realizes he really is going to keep working. And yeah, it‘s mostly just to drive her nuts with impatience, because watching her stalk around his office and freak his secretary out when she props herself in the door to check her pistol chamber is pretty hilarious. But it‘s also because he has shit to do, and he can‘t actually drop everything all the time just because his girlfriend shuttles herself up from Pandora for the first time in months - seriously,_ months _\- which..._

_“Hey, hero, wanna see my brand new scar? Three guesses where it is. You guess right, I‘ll let you sink your teeth into it.”_

_Handsome Jack has the self control of a skag at an ammo buffet on a normal day. Doesn‘t suffer temptation for long. He‘s lasted ten minutes with Nisha in his office, though, so that‘s gotta be a record. He‘s practically a saint._

_Or he could‘ve been in another life. One where he isn‘t literally biting at his girlfriend‘s ribs five minutes later._

 

* * *

 

Her hat rests in his case, top shelf because duh, and it‘s a curiosity to Gortys and Rhys alike. As it should be. It‘s an attention-drawing sort of hat. The robot calls it cute, so Jack makes sure to reiterate how sexy, sexy, sexy it is. _Cute_ is reserved for puppies and babies and the way Sheriff Kadam used to steal the covers so aggressively she‘d been known to roll herself straight off the bed all burritoed in the sheets. She always hated the first two, and Rhys doesn‘t deserve the intimacy of the third.

 

So it‘s a sexy hat his sexy girlfriend used to wear sexily, because it is and she did. Once upon a time, it suited her well.

 

And that‘s all there is to say about it.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I could take you in a fight, easy.”_

 

_Jack stops his pacing, tilting his head in thought. “Well if we‘re talking fistfight then yeah, sure, but -”_

_“Gunfights too.”_

_“Yeah, okay, fair enough, but I‘d kick your ass -”_

_“Airlocks don‘t count.”_

_“ - at riddles and mind games, you presumptuous bitch.”_

_Nisha tips back and laughs so hard her hat falls off to the floor. She scoops it up, snorting like an animal, and jams it onto his head before she plants herself on the desk before him. Nisha rests her feet on the arms of his chair, and he’s eye-level with her tits which is awesome. Even better is her mussed nest of hair and her toothy grin as she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. “You wanna know how else I can take you?” she says, curling a hand around his throat._

_“Surprise me,” he invites, smiling just as wide as she, because she always, always does._

 

* * *

 

 

He‘s part of the system again - literally - and it feels... well, a little like godhood. Way better that being the brain spectre of a clumsy fanboy with delusions of grandeur. Everyone can hear him now, as it should be.

 

Jack can feel it all, from the flickering light bulb in the chem lab ladies‘ room, to the lingering dormant power behind the Eye, to the heady wave of self-satisfaction he‘d been missing for - what, months? Years?

 

So he definitely feels the mechanical okie-dokie in the lock system that means someone‘s about to waltz right into his office without getting disintegrated into goopy pile of dust and entrails.

 

Nobody has a key to his office. Nobody living, anyway, which means somebody filched a key from one of two corpses - his, or...

 

Well. His first kill back on his rise to power. Ain‘t this gonna taste just as sweet as candy.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Vault hunters en route, vault hunter.”_

 

_Nisha‘s hum reverberates through the ECHO like honey through a cheese grater. “Been awhile since you called me that, boss. You sending trouble my way?”_

_“Don‘t thank me just yet.”_

_He can practically hear her expression shift. “You sound a little concerned there. I promise I‘ll be on my best behavior for your guests. Put on my Sunday best. Drag out the good silver.”_

_“There‘s something wrong with Angel,” Jack starts, and then stops. He fists a hand in his hair and shakes his head. “No, you know what?”_

_“Jack.”_

_“Nah. Put a great, hospitable shell through their fucking skulls. They‘ve been a pain in my ass for too long.”_

_“Vault hunters are notoriously hard to kill, sweetheart. You should know.”_

_“They killed Wilhelm,” he says. Adjusts his sleeve. “Well. With help from me. Full disclosure and all.”_

_“Yeah?” she says. “Damn. He was a great conversationalist.”_

_Jack chews on his thumbnail, brow cinched. “Don‘t I know it. Look, Nish -”_

_“I‘ll give ‘em hell for you, Jack. And after, I‘ll drink to Willy. You‘re not invited to that part, though, since you helped him die. Nothin‘ personal. No, wait - that’s definitely personal. He always brought me the sexiest guns.”_

_“I‘ll give you as many sexy guns as you want, as long as you give me their heads on a friggin‘ platter. And don‘t -” He growls, fiddling with the laser on his wrist. “Just do it quickly.”_

_“Yeah? That all you have to say?”_

_“What the fuck else would I have to say?”_

_“That all you_ want _to say, jackass?”_

_Not over a goddamn ECHO device, it‘s not._

_“Nisha. They‘re gonna get to you faster than I can.”_

_“Oh, hero,” Nisha says. He can hear her load her gun. “The bad guys always do.”_

 

* * *

 

 “H-how did you get in here?” boggles a beanpole of a thing, tall and skinny and sweating bullets at the sight of her.

 

“Holy crap,” comes that voice from all around her, wired into Hyperion in much the same way he‘d always been. But she doesn‘t spare a glance for the big blue face losing its shit on the wall.

 

Instead, Nisha salutes the kid scrambling out of Jack‘s chair with her pistol. “Oh don‘t you worry about me, honey. I‘ve got a key.”

 

* * *

 

_Her body‘s just another pile in the dust and the dirt. Jack stumbles over a corpse on his way to her and loses himself in a rage, kicking and kicking until every rib is crushed, and cold blood coats his boots._

 

_Jack lifts her up, the frame in his arms still warm enough to bend and fold. Picks up her hat as he goes._

_He still doesn‘t know what to do with his hands when he‘s not touching her._

_She‘s better than this - than all the bodies in this town, on this planet - so he takes her to his ship. Lays her in the passenger seat because she‘d double over laughing to know she could still scare the piss out of a lackey or two, even in death, and he curses under his breath again and again and again. Presses his fists into his eyes until the starbursts become waves and waves of color in the dark._

_She‘d always known she‘d go out like this. Told him as much, as many times as she liked, because that‘s who she was. It fucks him up to see her so still, so he rests the hat against her stomach, and starts to climb into his seat. But he thinks better of it after a moment, cuts the ignition, and fold her hands over the hat, swearing all the while._

_“I‘m gonna fucking burn you,” he bites out, squeezing her cold wrist. “I‘m gonna take you to Helios, put your gross fuckin‘ ashes in a whiskey bottle, and throw you off a cliff on Eden-6. You can suffer paradise for all eternity, you piece of shit. You don't get to just... just ooze into the dirt like a fuckin' bandit. It's my choice now. Teach you to just die in a hail of bullets. Friggin‘ weak, Nisha. Sheriff of fragile mortality. Oh my god.”_

_She says not a word, and he hates her for it._

_But Jack knows who he hates even more._

 

* * *

 

 

“So, you‘re an AI.”

 

Jack grins at her from a plasma screen. “I know, right? Thanks for that, by the way. You and that Naka-whatsit. My face is like... twice as big as your body right now. And from that screen behind you I have a perfect view of your ass. It‘s pretty great.”

 

“ _Real_ cool,” she agrees, rocking back on her heels and narrowing her eyes up at Jack‘s face in HD. “So what do I punch to make you feel it, sweetheart?”

 

Rhys coughs in the corner, somewhere behind one of the big, dumb statues of Jack‘s big, dumb head, but they don‘t pay him any mind at all. “What makes an AI tick? Where are your corporeal balls for me to cave in? Just once. One good kick.”

 

“Aw, don‘t be like that, babe.”

 

Nisha lifts her chin toward Rhys. “What about the kid? You said you could fuck around with his limbs and shit. That‘s pretty cool. If I make him bleed, will you feel it, too?”

 

“I mean, hot as that is, and you‘re totally welcome to it,” Jack says over Rhys‘ protestation, “doesn‘t work that way. And thank god, am I right?”

 

“Thank whoever you goddamn like,” she says. The pistol in her hand makes Rhys nervous, and it makes Jack... something. “I deserve at least one good shot at you for dying, and we both know it, so have the decency to give the girl a break here.”

 

“Me?” he says, irate in a way that makes Rhys flinch. Then he ducks out of view so Nisha can‘t see him. “You died first, asshole! You just fucking - a sentinel! You made a - a friggin‘ Eridian sentinel your bitch, and all it took to take you out was a handful of vault hunters!”

 

“I‘m in the Hyperion system, sugar,” she says sweetly, tapping the pistol to temple, “remember? I was out just long enough for you to go and get yourself murdered. So, honey, darlin‘, light of my life, I. Get. My. Shot.”

 

"Alright, alright. Alright. Well, I have plans. Big ones. If everything goes well, you just might get your chance. Ain't that right, Rhysie?"

 

"Sounds risky. I'm in," Nisha says, slipping her gun into its holster. Jack and Rhys follow the motion with varying degrees of interest and relief. "What's the plan, handsome?"

 

"That's my girl," Jack says, all teeth. While Rhys whispers frantically to someone on his ECHO, Nisha brushes the hair from her eyes.

 

"We'll see."

 

* * *

 

 

_His only warning is a holler before he feels a heavy blow from behind. Staggering forward, Jack curses and grips at the meat of her calves, only just barely catching them both from face-planting on the floor. She wraps around him from behind and squeezes tight, like a vice. "Did you miss me?" she purrs in his ear, nipping once just hard enough to make him consider dropping her on her ass. Probably why she's holding on so tight, the sneaky fuck. "'Course you did. Rhetorical question."_

 

_"Is this what we're reduced to?" he gripes, yanking the boots off her feet because they're digging into his ribs and, frankly, disgusting. "'Cause it's pretty gross, pumpkin. Not saying you should shoot at me instead, but I mean, variety is the spice of life."_

 

_"These shoulders?" she says, digging her chin into one with a blissful sigh. "They beg to carry me. I heard 'em all the way down in Lynchwood. 'Please, Ms Kadam, please come back and climb us like a tree.' I'm a good Samaritan. I answered the call."_

 

_"What, you think my shoulders are charity cases?"_

 

 _"I wouldn't say that, since I'm definitely gonna need you to return the favor._ _" Nisha presses her nose just under his ear. Her toes wiggle when he digs his fingers in the sensitive skin under her knees, and she locks him in a chokehold for his efforts. "Ask not what I can do for you, but what you can do for your girl."_

 

_"I could drop you," he considers._

 

_"You can surely try."_

* * *

 

 

"Back from the grave, and you still think I'm yours."

 

Shit's starting to roll on a downhill slope, and it's nothing Jack can't handle, but his attention is divided. It really shouldn't be. At the end of the day, he's Artificial Intelligence - he doesn't have the same brain chemicals prone to imbalance, the same fickle human system that once made him mortal. He should be able to focus himself singularly on the task at hand, and he can. He could. But Nisha's calm voice in his system and the amusement on her face he can read from a distant surveillance camera diverts him, just a little. He ignores her to make a point, like he doesn't reach for that deep throaty laugh to play in his head, over and over, a memory from a lifetime past.

 

"I always did love your confidence."

 

* * *

 

 

 _"When I die, just let me sink in the dirt," she sighs. Jack trains his one good eye on her_ _in the dark._

 

_"Y'know, you're just - you're always so eloquent with your pillow talk."_

 

_"Yeah? When you clean the come off my tits, you can choose the next topic of conversation."_

 

_So he goes to fetch a washrag, griping all the while, and she stretches herself out to watch him do it. "We'll all be skag shit in the end anyway. No reason to go to any trouble."_

 

_"Except you don't have to return to the dust or whatever Biblical bullshit you've got on the brain when you've got a billion-zillionaire for a fuckbuddy," he grouses, flopping back down to clean the mess from her body. She grins up at him, perfectly smug. "You die on me, I'm gonna raise you from the dead myself to kick your ass. Vault hunters don't die unless I kill 'em."_

 

_"Maybe you'll be the one to kill me, then," she says, drawing a hand over his scarred cheek. He bites at her thumb hard enough to make her hiss._

 

_"Your sense of humor could use some work. Pandora's made you maudlin."_

 

_"And what has it made you?"_

 

_Handsome Jack lowers himself into bed beside her with a grunt and an arm around her waist. "I dunno. Legendary. Godlike."_

 

_"Deathless?"_

 

_He grins into her hair. "Nah, cupcake. That's all you."_

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd post this a day before the actual continuation of TftB because I am a filthy Nisha death conspiracy theorist. Deny! Deny! Deny!
> 
> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> Title from Walt Whitman's "A Song of the Rolling Earth":  
> Whoever you are! motion and reflection are especially for you,  
> The divine ship sails the divine sea for you.  
> Whoever you are! you are he or she for whom the earth is solid  
> and liquid,  
> You are he or she for whom the sun and moon hang in the sky,  
> For none more than you are the present and the past,  
> For none more than you is immortality.
> 
>  
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).


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